PART 1

“Another cheap bakery  cake, mother-in-law? How embarrassing… oops.”

The cake hit the patio floor upside down just as everyone was getting ready to sing for my sixty-fifth birthday.

For a moment, nobody moved.

Vanilla cream spread across the tiles. Strawberries rolled under the chairs. The golden candle shaped like the number sixty-five bent sideways, almost as if it had also grown tired of being disrespected.

My daughter-in-law, Valeria, did not even try to look sorry.

She fixed her hair, glanced at the ruined cake, and smiled with that cold, satisfied expression I had come to know too well.

“Oh, sorry, Elenita,” she said, stretching my name like I was a servant in my own home. “My elbow slipped.”

My son Mauricio stood by the grill, frozen, his face turning red. My sister Clara, my neighbors, and my friends all stared at the mess, unsure whether to help or pretend nothing had happened.